Memento Vita
by MessengerOfDreams
Summary: Nintendo Tribute Installment 4: The Bounty Hunters. The memorial service for one of the most revered fallen bounty hunters in Junction City through the eyes of her partner. AU. For Tune4toons's birthday and inspired by her writing style. WINNER OF Link and Echo's Inevitable Contest. Complete and Edited! (Extended Author's Notes Included)
1. Two Years, Two Weeks and Two Days

**(Story, including A/Ns, edited on October 18, 2012. Due to the length of the A/N it has been placed on the bottom of the page for aesthetic purposes. The purpose they serve is to illuminate the intent of the story, explanations of the home section for the uninitiated and give a little bit of thanks to the inspiration of the story and the recipient of the gift, Tune4Toons)**

**(At the time of winning Link and Echo's Inevitable Contest, this story has exactly 666 total views on it. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.)**

**Chapter 1_  
_****Two Years, Two Weeks and Two Days**

**"__****Choose your last words, This is the last time, Cause you and I, We were born to die"  
~Lana Del Rey, Born to Die**

I hate being here. I never wanted to be here. All the same, I should have expected this. We're bounty hunters. We're almost expected to die. I suppose it was inevitable.

Yet, I still can't believe it.

I've never been in such an intense quiet before, and yet the silence is deafening. We're downtown in Junction City, in a formal hall where the memorial will take place. It's been sixteen days since it happened, and they've felt like sixteen years.

Oh, goddamn it. It's been too slow. It's almost inescapable.

I didn't ask for this.

Everyone's dressed up so nicely. Seeing the amount of black being worn is like staring into an endless void. No one knows what she would have dressed like if she were here. I know that she probably wouldn't have bothered.

_"I don't do funerals," she says, needlessly defensive, staring me straight in the eye. "I think the excess amount of death I've witnessed should excuse me from at least a handful." That comment incites a long stretch of silence that she usually instigates when she thinks she's said too much. A year, eight months and four days ago. _

Well, the funeral already passed, as it happens. I sat through the whole thing uncomfortably, too. There were no tears and little emotion, but there was respect. Many people respected her with very good reason. She was a warrior beyond comparison. Nothing could stand in her way... except, of course, for the final thing. She made a difference and she protected Junction City. People called her, and eventually us, heroes for it. Some said that she represented the good bounty hunters stood for. I know she didn't take such compliments to heart. Being a bounty hunter was just what she did. She was good at it and she didn't know how to do anything else.

That's what she said, at least.

But I knew better.

_"I didn't choose the bounty hunting life. The bounty hunting life chose me." She chuckles dryly._ The memory is almost a retort.

I still knew better. Even two years and sixteen days ago.

She was more than a bounty hunter. Sometimes I think she knew that and simply denied it.

I know about bounty hunting. I am a bounty hunter. It's how we became acquainted. We figured that putting our skills together would be beneficial to our work; catch more villains, earn more of a living. I knew that wasn't the only reason, though. She was finished with being alone. She had spent nearly three decades on her own and decided it was enough.

She spent nearly three decades alone, and barely over two years afterward with someone she could trust. I've never heard of anything quite so unfair happening to someone so undeserving of it.

This hall we are in now, in our stuffy suits and formal dresses that insist this is a special occasion, is nearly suffocating me right now. There is nothing special about this. In fact, it makes me angry. You want to honor her now? You want to pay your dues now? You at Junction City, a city she owed nothing to and yet gave everything for, have just figured out that she deserves your respect? Well, thank you for waiting until she _died for you _to give it to her.

_"People need someone to look up to, a small reassurance that the world won't fall today." She looks at me, and for once her smirk is a smile. She adjusts her gun in her holster and says with alarming sincerity, "I guess we'll have to do."A year, three months and twenty-one days ago._

Many famous names and faces showed up to pay (belated) respect to her. Even government officials that had spoken against bounty hunting showed up despite (perhaps because of) their own agenda. Even some of the more volatile or controversial hunters were wandering around for whatever reason. Still, no one here truly cared for her.

No one... except for me. That's because I earned her trust, and because I was the only one who cared to.

_"The hardest thing I could ever do is trust." The confession is rushed, as if she hopes I'll miss it. Two months and five days ago._

Of course I'll never forget it.

I avoid people at all costs. The last thing I want to do is talk to any of them. They don't feel real. They're not as invested. I should have known what I was getting myself into with her. Maybe I did ask for it, in a sense. I should have sensed this inevitable misery when my own life and safety began to take a second priority to hers.

_"Don't kill yourself on my behalf." It's a snappish comment she delivers with a smirk, but she means it. Three weeks and four days ago._

I should have told her the same.

It still seemed inevitable, though, like waiting for the pin to drop and trigger an avalanche to take us both out.

I'm hungry, so I find one of the nearby tables and pick a couple of deviled eggs off of it. I feel uneasy about the fact that I'm eating party favors at her memorial service, but she'd probably kick me in the shin if I were to say something as nonsensical about that, so I grab a third for good measure.

It's not that I'm fasting or anything because of her death. I just hate how they're turning it into a party, as if her death is something worth celebrating. I know what they say about not mourning her death but celebrating her life, but again, why didn't they do that while she was still alive?

I know that I was glad she was alive.

I know that I'm miserable now that she's not.

_"I mean... if I've done anything to make my existence worth something to you..." She never finishes. She turns away and remains silent for a half hour. A month and three weeks ago._

It's okay. I never quite understood it all either.

I see someone intentionally heading my way, and I prepare myself for a wooden conversation. To my surprise, it's yet another bounty hunter, albeit one we never associated with. He was different than us. We strictly went after the ones harming Junction City. Rumors went around that he worked for anyone who paid him, hero or villain. Never proven, never denied. He was good at his job, but it certainly wasn't a clean one.

_"I highly doubt what we're doing is exactly clean," she says, looking down at the dashboard as I slow the car down. "Try necessary. Try defensive. Try brave, or even helpful, if you're feeling frisky. But never clean." Seven months and a day ago._

And I suppose she was right, but even then, he was further away from righteousness than we were. I suppose it's all relative though.

He walks to me, bent over slightly as though it's a struggle to completely stand. He stops just short of arms' length. "Hello, Captain," he greets me. His voice is dry but not disdainful.

I nod and curtly say, "Wolf O'Donnell." I'm not overly polite because I'm hoping he gets the hint that I'm far from desiring a conversation.

To further clarify this, I stand there quietly, wondering when I can leave and swipe a few more deviled eggs without looking like a jerk. It's about half a minute of restless silence before Wolf speaks up again. "This is bullshit."

I don't know what he's speaking of, yet I already agree. Still, I ask, "what is?"

"This whole thing. I mean, is this a party? Are they glad she's dead? Cause they seem in pretty goddamn good spirits."

My heart skips a beat because he's right. Again, I hesitate. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You're looking over everyone thinking about how full of shit they are. Half of these people, the city officials, were never invested in even the slightest thing that Samus Aran ever stood for. I doubt they even fully understood. In fact, they probably bitched about it beforehand."

_"People don't care much to understand. They just want to draw their own conclusions." She swirls her spoon around her small cup of coffee, making sure the sugar and cream are well applied before adding with a small blush, "I suppose if they want to make a big fuss about me, though… hey." A year, six months and fourteen days ago. _

Even someone like her needed a bit of appreciation, even if you could never convince her that she earned it.

I snap back to Wolf. "And you did?" I reply tersely.

"Not entirely," he admits shamelessly, "but at least I don't go around acting like it. I'm here out of respect, just like everyone else says they are."

I'm silent for a few moments. This conversation has a lot more meaning than I anticipated. Eventually, I bitterly reply, "Define 'respect'."

He jerks his head over to the crowd of black-suited souls mingling around us. "I don't know about them, but if you want to hear about some actual respect, I turned down five different hits on you two."

I'm astonished. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Ton of money lost on that one, so don't take that lightly."

"Don't worry." I've been zapped into animation. "I very much appreciate it." I sober up significantly as I add offhandedly, "It didn't help her much, but thank you anyways."

He scowls. "You're still alive, aren't you? Act like it. I mean…" He stops just short of an angry rant after he takes a look at me (I'm honestly not sure what expression is on my face). "Look, I know you're taking this hard and I get it, okay? This kind of thing happened to me too." He pauses and takes a breath, considering himself. "Not the same, not different. Fact is that you're not dead yet, so I'd like to think I made a wise investment."

_"The hell is wrong with these people? They should be giving you a lot more credit." She seems genuinely flummoxed that it's her name making headlines much more than mine nowadays. A year, six months and fourteen days ago._

I don't reply to Wolf just yet.

He looks me dead-on, calm as the eye of a storm. "Honestly though, if I knew she was going to die anyways, I still wouldn't have done the hit."

I nod. "Thank you."

"I'll talk to you later." It's not a request, and he doesn't give me time to argue, but I have a feeling that I haven't seen the last of Wolf O'Donnell.

**~For Tune~**

**Happy birthday, Tune. One does not usually write someone a tragedy for their birthday, but of course there's me, hahaha.**** What I was really trying to do, though, was write a story that took the grit, emotion and beauty you put into yours and use it to inspire my own work... and apparently I can't go three stories without one of them being about death.**

**Also, thanks for not having any problem with me entering it into this contest. I wish you luck with your own piece, if you can enter it! Friendly competition, especially after you bested me in the Body Switching contest, yah?**

**Also, this is the first time I have self-beta'd intensely, and it actually turned out very well.**

**I really hope you enjoy this, though (and everyone else who reads this) and that it speaks to your skill. You have a skill that I am honestly envious of, and I hope I at least paid tribute to it.**

**I don't know any Indonesian, so there's no clever bilingual sentiment I can put here, so I'll just say it in English: Your writing has inspired me with my own, and has given me a second wind and the motivation to try again. I thank you for the support you've given me and I'm thankful I've been able to inspire you back. Artists like us are what keeps the blood of humanity's heart racing, and I'm glad we've been able to share in each other's power.**

**~For Other Readers~**

**Primarily, I've gained my audience from The Reviews Lounge, too, so I'm going to add to my disclaimer and place it in every chapter since the workings of the Smash Bros section are very unusual indeed. Thanks for your help, all 23 of you who have started this fic by the time I've edited my A/Ns, and any further ones that will continue to read afterward. This fic is more for an audience like you than for its home section. Memento Vita has become my masterpiece, so thank you for seeing my vision (even if it is ultimately a brutal tearjerker, haha.)**

**~In Regards to Winning The Contest~**

**What an honor, really. I didn't expect to win at first, then Tune entered, and I really didn't expect to win. Then Tune dropped out, and at the risk of shooting myself in the foot, I urged her to go back in. When she wrote _home_, I didn't even consider it a remote possibility, my victory. _home... _it just may be the best fanfic I've ever read. I believe that, and I'm honored to have won against it. I put my heart and soul into this story, and I'm glad it resonated.**

**~Disclaimer~**

**As usual, I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing. The Super Smash Bros version is essentially a melting pot of Nintendo characters from every major universe and several smaller ones. It's become the template for many works Nintendo Crossover without relegating it to that section, as it is here. Unlike many Nintendo games, canon here is very thin and often negligible, as the SSB games don't have any story save for the Subspace Emissary game-within-a-game from Brawl. There is very little canon to follow so most of it is by my own construction.**

**Furthermore, this is an Alternate Universe story, which either re-formats the Universe the source is set in or creates a whole new one. I've done the latter here; the idea of Super Smash Bros doesn't exist, but the roster has been used in reference many times as a society of bounty hunters, to keep with the general theme of this story. Samus from Metroid, Captain Falcon from F-Zero and Wolf from Star Fox are actually bounty hunters in their respective games' canon, which is what inspired the story.**

**Mel Yoshita is somewhat of an original character, but she is largely a recurring character that is a reinterpretation of our lovable Yoshi. Mayor Handler is also a reinterpretation of an SSB original character, Master Hand, the in game creator of the universe that is essentially a giant hand. Here, they're both human.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it thus far and continue to do so.**


	2. A Month And Eight Days

**Chapter 2  
****A Month and Eight Days**

_"It's better to burn out than to fade away."  
_**~Neil Young, Hey Hey My My  
(These words became infamous after Kurt Cobain referenced them in his suicide letter)**

When he's gone, I realize I don't know what to do with myself, so I find a chair at one of the tables on the sidelines and sit alone. I can only hope no one comes over here and gives their condolences, because the last thing I want is the pity of strangers.

Even if they show up, within no time I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts and memories that no one could get my attention even if they tried. I knew one thing that no one else did, even if they had suspected it. It's the biggest weight I carry.

_She's uncertain as she sits next to me, arms wrapped around her knees. She tries to smile but it doesn't reach. I can almost hear her speeding heartbeat. Out of concern, I grab her wrist. Her pulse is also skyrocketing. I ask her if she's okay. She just shrugs, looking up at me, Her normally periwinkle eyes are coursing with new life, as blue as the sky._

_ She turns away, but in about a minute or so, she inches towards me. I'm caught off guard by her hesitance and silence because she always has a comment or philosophy for everything, as if they've been restrained for the longest time, eagerly awaiting a listening ear. Now, she's too quiet, and it alarms me. I don't let go of her wrist, but she moves her arm so that I'm soon holding on to her hand. It's a painfully slow process, as if she's worried there's a knife waiting in my palm. It takes another minute before she has wrapped her fingers around mine, resting atop my knuckles. _

_Finally, she speaks, saying, "This is… new to me."_

_She turns around. I face her. She kisses me directly on the lips. _

_Surprised yet not at all surprised, I return it. She's not very good, and it's clear that she's never done this before, but in retrospect I hadn't expected her to. We quietly sit there, our lips maneuvering around each other, looking for purpose. We stop after a minute, but nevertheless, we're satisfied._

_We don't speak of that kiss again. But from then on, we know our partnership was never a temporary thing. As long as we are both alive, an unspoken promise is made to stick together. __And we do, for all twenty-two of her remaining days._

_A month and eight days ago. _

I still don't know what I was thinking, why I let this happen, or why I both regret it and don't. Honestly, I wanted it for awhile now and I was happy for it, but that brief period of satisfaction only led me into an even longer period of loneliness, restlessness, sadness.

I knew her for two years. I had her for three weeks. I know only one thing less fair.

I look up from my table. The mayor of Junction City is preparing to speak. Unlike most politicians, I don't mind Gordon Handler. Within his pencil-pusher frame and his gray hair is a sharp mind, caring eyes, and a good gift of gab. Honestly, he deserves my respect. After all, he never interfered with our hunting practices, although he strictly forbade any unnecessary killing.

There aren't many bounty hunters in Junction City (about thirty for the city's twelve million people), and we're almost entirely freelance, but Handler has not hindered us. That's a lot more than we could have expected, especially when his actions came under fire by other politicians. Karma came through for him in the form of Mario Segali, a hunter who saved his grown daughter Peach from a corrupt general for no pay other than the welcoming arms of Handler's family. Handler was our greatest champion who braved controversy to stand by our cause.

I get up and make my way to the crowd, standing off to the side and away from anyone else. I recognize many hunters from around the way; Wolf's nearby and throws a glance my way every now and again. Short but stout Mario is standing towards the middle, directly before the podium, with Peach wrapped around his arm. He's terrified, because he knows that he too could suffer through this.

I don't have to worry about that anymore. It's almost a relief to not have to fear the tragedy anymore. Now I know what I would do in this situation, because I'm here.

I can't stand it.

Silence falls as the mayor begins to speak.

"Hello, everyone," he begins, his voice booming with authority. He's six foot tall and pencil-thin, but still commands enough strength to make the voice befit him. "Thank you all for attending this memorial service. Today, we are here to pay tribute to our fallen hero," and there's that word again, _hero,_ making me squirm noticeably, "the well-renowned bounty hunter Samus Aran, who was killed while on duty by Ganon Dragmire on February 23, 2027."

It's so simple and factual the way he says it. The truth of the matter is betrayed when spoken by someone who won't have to live with it and everything it hid. He won't have to live with the fact that she died during an interrogation, or the fact that she was a mangled mess when I found her, hair splayed around her blood-soaked face, her scalp not quite attached to her head, a cavernous hole in her throat, a vacant sign of resignation within her eyes. He never heard her last words.

_"Go to hell, Dragmire. Do whatever you want to me. You know nothing about loyalty but I do, and I swear that I won't betray my city, my fellow hunters… or Falcon." I can hear her, too. I was so close to entering at just the right time. As soon as my intuition told me there was trouble, not even a minute after she didn't meet me at the diner, I shredded asphalt getting over to where she was supposed to be. I'm so achingly close. It's not even a minute's difference. That minute of doubt was all it took._

_At his wit's end, he roars one last threat "You shall not remain in my way, so you will either tell me who sent you, who is with you, or you will die here!" _

_She just laughs that familiar dry, slightly amused chuckle. _

_"What have I got to lose?"_

_The only reply after that is a jagged ripping slice, and gurgling before I hear a telltale collapse. I was so close. I was almost there, and it kills me too._

_Sixteen days ago._

"I would like to briefly commend Captain Douglas Falcon-" when I hear my name, I'm fully attentive, "-for immediately subduing Dragmire from doing any more harm."

A polite round of applause courses, and it's a round I don't deserve. Was it courageous to beat and kill Dragmire in front of her body with the knife that he killed her with? My gun never left my satchel. Is it inspiring that I held her broken body and wept until the police arrived to clean the mess? Was it wise to have Handler personally forsake his own policies and look the other way for the sake of myself and my dead partner, despite the fact that Dragmire's death was clearly not professional? I hear the applause I don't deserve, and I can't bring myself to even look up.

_"My biggest undoing is unsolved revenge," she tells me once before we took down Ridley, her greatest, most personal adversary. "I'm an unfinished book desperately looking to complete those last few pages. That's why I have to find him, Doug." There's an ashamed desperation in that last sentence, the moment where her cynic wisdom turns into a plea for empathy. Nine months and five days ago. Her mother's would-be-birthday._

Perhaps it was for that reason I didn't hesitate to kill her murderer. It's the only comfort I can take from it. The lie I can use to reassure myself.

The applause disappears as fast as it began as Handler continues. "Samus Aran was the reason that I maintained confidence in our force of bounty hunters; for every one that causes controversy there was one who stood for what was right."

I squirm again. Despite his good intentions, his idealism blinds him from understanding the relationship between bounty hunters and doing right.

_"I did the right thing today," she comments sarcastically. "I didn't use their loved ones as a bargaining chip. I didn't leave a witness behind. I didn't back out today and leave someone to suffer to better my chances of catching the target." She raises her voice. "Well, bury me in honor and raise my pay, I'm a goddamn hero. Cheers to a good fucking day!" Finally, she can't stand herself anymore and screams in frustration, slamming her fists into the dashboard. She doesn't apologize, and she doesn't speak, just leaning her head against the dashboard and breathing heavily, choking on barricaded tears. I stop the car and wait until she pulls herself together. She does, but she's silent the rest of the night. I regret trying to convince her that she did what was right for the city by taking down Ridley. I never believe in such a credo again. Seven months and twenty-nine days ago._

"Samus was the best example of her line of work. She was efficient, she was fair, and after it all…" he paused, as if trying to carry the weight of his words, "…she bled for the city.

"There is a certain amount of professionalism that comes with the job of a bounty hunter. They work alone, on their own time, and they do get paid for their work. Miss Aran was no exception. She was neither a volunteer, nor a knight in shining armor, neither a saint nor a beacon of righteousness or decency."

He stops again, letting us consider that Samus was far from perfect, and I like that, I really do. People will lift someone onto a golden pedestal once they're dead in a way they never would alive. It's nice to see that Mayor Handler has a clear head on his shoulders, even if he's not quite as invested.

"What she did was care. Not just in the matter of getting the job done. As stoic and composed as she was known to be, she cared on a personal level. I can't see this as a surprise to anyone, seeing as she was known to have lost family, friends, and her home to villains much like those she fought. Many people can stand by idly, but it takes an exceptional warrior to fight back despite knowing the risks. Miss Aran did that in spades."

The room is dead silent. Everyone, me included, is fixated upon the mayor. While he doesn't know much about bounty hunting, he knows a lot about many other things.

"That's why I wish to honor her tonight. Not only for her work in taking down some of the worst criminals to date, but for her dedication, her perseverance, and for the simple fact the she cared, and she dared to take her chances. It's a shame that her risks never paid off for her, but we will never forget the fact that she took them and the good that came out of it."

_A month and eight days ago, one of her biggest risks paid off for both of us. _

_"On my birthday, I usually never receive gifts, so I always give one to myself," she admits. An hour later, she fulfills that. We kiss for the first time._

It's spontaneous and unexpected when all of the bounty hunters are gazing at the flag of Junction City, a multicolored union of finely woven lines along a gray background, and they all salute it. It takes me a few moments to recognize that I started the action, leading the others with me. A few seconds into the salute, the other attendees, including Mayor Handler, also salute it, although it doesn't quite have the same meaning as those of the bounty hunters. They understand. They know. And they'll never forget.

I'll never forget either, but not all of the reasons will be for the negative after all.

It's a full minute before the mayor speaks again. "I apologize for the sparse… activity… going on in this service. We'll have a few speakers, including some words from Captain Douglas Falcon, her partner."

To my dismay, I can feel all eyes focus in on me once more. I know I asked to speak. I still don't know what to say. I had only three days to summarize two years of my time with Samus up into a three minute speech, and I don't know what to say.

"Afterward, I would like to perform a ceremony on behalf of Samus just outside in Crossroads Park." There are a few sounds of disapproval, but only for the sake of the lingering news reporters and even paparazzi waiting to get pictures and answers from us.

_She groans at the thought of answering interviews just after the job is complete. "Falcon, if there's one thing I've learned, is that news simply cannot wait. It's impatient, it's loud and it escapes much too easily. Here I was kind of hoping no one would miss him." A year, eleven months and two days ago._

"Thank you all for turning out," he announced. "Not all of you were involved in Miss Aran's life directly, so it must mean something that you're here." After that, he steps down and we begin to disperse. Some break into conversation and some linger silently, considering his words, considering Samus Aran.

I find that my gaze still hasn't left the flag.

_"Samus, it's a wonder you haven't died yet." I tell her as she slams the car door and we drive away amid gunfire._

_"Eh… there could be worse ways to go." She's perfectly calm as she tightens her seatbelt. "I could always die lying on the couch with a tortilla chip clogging my throat and choking me to death, alone and forgotten."_

_Again, her contained wisdom stops my thought process. "…when you put it that way…"_

_She looks at me and then cracks, smirking. I think she's blushing too, which must mean she's going to say something I won't forget. "Or, even worse, my least favorite cause of death- attack from a rabid tiger."_

_I swerve around an oncoming enemy car. The inhabitants shoot and miss. "That's your biggest fear?"_

_"Give me a break, Falcon." She elbows me before launching into a passionate defense. "I mean, imagine it. The thing bites through your ankle, mouth foaming, and then you're stuck there knowing that's it, you're doomed, _and_ as an added treat you get to descend into madness on your way out. You don't get frilly or heroic last words. You get something like blarrrrrrhahahrhrhahahahaaaa …" She closes the argument by dissolving into demented, barbaric grunts. I wonder what the hell has happened to her but mostly I'm laughing because this is so unlike her._

_"Wow. You have quite a vivid imagination!" I declare._

_"It's all your fault," she snorts, but she's smiling._

_I smile stupidly, because here we are having barely escaped with our lives and yet I'm so spirited, so alive. Eventually, I say, "And here I am afraid of something boring like heights."_

_"That being the case," she pointed out, "watch the road."_

_I notice what she means and turn right so I'm going onto the road, not off of a nearby cliff. We're on a rural highway, and a valley is adjacent to us. It starts off deserted and sparse but grows gradually until it reaches a dense forest before thinning out again near the edges of the metropolis known as Junction City, which stands tall for an endless distance, the capital building reaching nearly a quarter mile into the air._

_"Look at that," she tells me, her voice taking on a tone of admiration._

_"A city worth fighting for," I reply, as always. It's our version of a solemn oath. We take a look at our city from miles away. We remind ourselves that despite its flaws, it's still a city worth dying for._

_She smiles and takes my hand once more. We're out of the storm. We're safe again, for now. This mission didn't go perfectly but we got some recon out of it. We're sure that come this time next week, Ganon Dragmire will be off the streets._

_"I wouldn't fight with anyone else but you," she promises me. And in her last week alive after that, she never does._

_That day seems like an eternity ago, but the kiss seems even farther back and any time before that feels like a different lifetime. _

_I'm not even sure if I was truly alive two years and seventeen days ago._

**~Disclaimer~**

**As usual, I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing. The Super Smash Bros version is essentially a melting pot of Nintendo characters from every major universe and several smaller ones. It's become the template for many works Nintendo Crossover without relegating it to that section, as it is here. Unlike many Nintendo games, canon here is very thin and often negligible, as the SSB games don't have any story save for the Subspace Emissary game-within-a-game from Brawl. There is very little canon to follow so most of it is by my own construction.**

**Furthermore, this is an Alternate Universe story, which either re-formats the Universe the source is set in or creates a whole new one. I've done the latter here; the idea of Super Smash Bros doesn't exist, but the roster has been used in reference many times as a society of bounty hunters, to keep with the general theme of this story. Samus from Metroid, Captain Falcon from F-Zero and Wolf from Star Fox are actually bounty hunters in their respective games' canon, which is what inspired the story.**

**Mel Yoshita is somewhat of an original character, but she is largely a recurring character that is a reinterpretation of our lovable Yoshi. Mayor Handler is also a reinterpretation of an SSB original character, Master Hand, the in game creator of the universe that is essentially a giant hand. Here, they're both human.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it thus far and continue to do so.**


	3. Three Minutes

**Chapter 3  
****Three Minutes**

"I'm singing a sad tune. Is this all I do?"**  
~Jonsi, Sinking Friendships**

As I stand by nervously, steering my attention away from the flag but just barely a participant of the present,a familiar feeling through a memory overtakes me, reminding me that there really was life before two years and sixteen days ago.

That reminiscent feeling is one I first realized in the third grade, standing onstage in front of a crowd of thirty proud parents who decided to show up at a play this little school on the outskirts of fast-paced Mute City had orchestrated. It's a goofy play about a female cockroach named Martina who goes through several different species of animal looking for a mate (apparently not considering other cockroaches) and finds one in a caring rat named, of all things, Pedro. I was that rat, second in the billing, and I was determined to blow everyone away with my fine acting skills.

There I was. I had my chance, and all I could do is stare at an impatient eight-year-old Martina who's trying really hard not to scratch her head underneath her hat with antennae on top of it, still with fright. It takes me a bit before I burst out in bombastic fashion, ad-libbing the whole thing with dramatic declarations of love. When she accepts (although the young actress looked like she'd love to do anything but) we prepare the wedding stew. Of course, the outspoken and dashing young Pedro is chased by a sinister cat and lands in the pot reserved for the stew, tossing his sombrero in the air and trying to clamber out. In the name of good logic, the two-centimeter cockroach scares away the two-foot tall cat and the wedding goes on. Everyone is thoroughly entertained and they applaud, and my career as a show-off begins.

(Unfortunately, the marriage between Pedro and Martina is short lived after Martina throws her antennae at Pedro, saying he's a jerk for stealing the spotlight before stomping off with her mom. Celebrity romances truly never do work out.)

This certain feeling that is divided into several. It's one of fright because you're about to do the most important thing of your life, it's the idea that maybe you'll do incredibly, and a slight reassurance that I've felt this before.

Of course, circumstances are largely different here. I'm not an eight-year-old kid in Mute City playing with toy racecars whose biggest living moment was playing a rat at a school play. I'm a thirty-seven-year-old celebrity bounty hunter whose biggest living moment is the death of the woman he had finally let himself fall for, and figuring out what could possibly, possibly be the right thing to say.

And I still don't know.

Even now, I'm wrapped up in thoughts and memories, and they've bound me to a mental block. I want to take reassurance in the proof that my third-grade play shows that I was alive before I met Samus. I want to convince myself that I'll be okay without her. Of course, that would involve admitting that she's actually gone and not coming back. I can't do that to myself yet.

_She grins ear-to-ear after I tell the tale of my breakout moment as a third-grade play star. It's ridiculous and expected of me, seeing who I am now nearly thirty years later. She doesn't strike me as the type to grin much, so I hope that I've shown that I'm a nice, likable guy and that working with me won't be such a bad experience._

_I take another bite out of my hamburger and, just as I finish swallowing, I ask, "What about you? Do you have any moments like that?"_

_Her grin simmers into neutrality. The way she picks out and arranges her words is almost visual. "Not quite anything as… exuberant."_

_I use "well, think it over" as an excuse to take a large gulp of soda. I swallow and give her an encouraging smile. _

_She speaks slowly. "I'm sure that you've heard that I haven't had the... __healthiest… childhood."_

_I nod. I already know about how her parents were killed by a mafia boss who managed to have her entire town uprooted and destroyed. Erik Ridley was already high up on my list of evil bastards to take down. _

_"I know, ma'am. But surely there has to be something worth remembering." _

_She thinks it over. She's not delaying anymore; I see a curious intent in her eyes and a distant, dreamy gaze. Finally, she speaks. "People haven't been… reliable… within my life. Some places are, though. Even when they're burnt, they're alive in my memory. And… I remember this one place… an alleyway between two buildings that lead to a secluded little garden with a wooden gazebo. It was like stepping into a whole new world; a beautiful garden and left for anyone who found it." She smiles wistfully. "It wasn't the lushest garden in the world, but... it was mine. I always dreamed it was left for me."_

_She pauses again. "That's a nice idea. I don't usually get gifts like that. When I do, I never forget them."_

_She looks away, embarrassed, and doesn't talk for ten minutes. I don't pry, because she's sincerely smiling. It's blissful yet laced with pain. It becomes all too familiar to me from that day two years, sixteen years ago and onward._

I feel a slight kick on the back of my leg. Surprised, I jerk around to see Wolf looking at me from his chair, his unkempt beard and whiskers sticking out like a completely separate beast. He retracts his foot and raises his eyebrow. I have the feeling that's the closest thing I'll get to an apology for alarming me.

"Hey, more speeches coming up," he informed me. "Not sure when you're up but I'll be watching, so stay alert."

I nod sharply. "Thank you."

He looks me over for a brief moment and then, eyes closed, says, "Sit down." He's seated at one of the round tables. Against my better judgment, I pull up a chair across from him.

"So, I'm going to tell you a story," he explains to me. "It's called 'The Reason Wolf O'Donnell is Not Blowing Smoke Up Your Ass and Actually Knows His Stuff About Amateur Grief Counseling." He's smirking, but follows that up with a sigh. In that moment, he reminds me of Samus. I push the thought aside.

"I'm not going to get into all the juicy, gory details, so spare your sympathies and your lunch," he states. "About a year back, one of my best mates also died on the job. Name was Leon. He was kind of fucked up, but I didn't mind. He was a sight to see and as sharp as my bayonet. Sadistic and shaky, but loyal and knew how to get the job done well… regardless of the fact that I had to remind him not to kill everything with a pulse." He laughs for a brief moment. It's almost a bark, true to his name.

"And, just to state it again, he got killed. Not heroically like Samus, although he couldn't have even if he wanted to. It was a gunfight. He was a casualty. Simple as that. You couldn't tell me that. See, when someone dies, you become acutely aware of the fine spider-web tapestry that our lives weave into. You spend an eternity observing it, knowing if you had done just one thing differently, so-and-so would still be alive today. Now I'm going to tell you the biggest fact of that knowledge."

He slams his fist down on the table, if only to test my alertness. I'm listening, but I jolt anyways. He declares gruffly, eyes on fire. "You can't. You can't pull up a magical solution to make everything better. No matter how bad you want to, you can't do shit about it. And the thing is, it's not your fault. Whether or not you were aware of your girl being in danger, everything was out of your control. The only, only thing you could have done was controlled the mind of the person who killed her. Even if you got there that second sooner, there's no guarantee she would have lived. You following?"

I nod. I want to tell him about that dreaded minute of doubt, that minute that made all of the difference, but something tells me he won't have it.

"Alright, so let me go over this one last thing. Did you wish her dead?"

"No!" I respond instinctively.

He cracks a victorious grin. "Did you try and kill her?"

"No."

"Did you perform any action at that moment that may have put her in danger?"

Almost reluctantly, I repeat, "No."

"Then congratulations, Falcon. You're absolved." Wolf gives a short round of applause. "There were a million things you could have done differently at any waking moment. But you don't know those options. Hell, you could have stopped on your way over and gotten a bagel only to be shot by the cashier. Is it your fault for craving a bagel? Are you going to, with that in mind, swear off bagels? You shouldn't. Bagels are perfectly harmless."

I look at him blankly. I'm not sure what to make of this impromptu seminar.

He sighs, running a hand across his face and eventually resting it on his salt-and-pepper beard. "Okay. I honestly don't know half of what I'm saying. So I'll just say, nothing fucks your mind up more than unnecessarily taking blame. It'll get you stuck. It got me stuck drunk off my ass every day for about three months. You're a good guy, so don't let it get you. After all, we're not the first bounty hunters to ever lose a partner in the line of duty and we won't be the last."

I nod and try to smile. Somehow, it even feels like Samus' smile. Laced with pain but still hopeful, drawing comfort from raindrops while still feeling the aftershock of thunder.

"I understand," is my response.

"It'll take awhile, I know," he replies before getting up without another word.

I follow him, noticing that the speeches are beginning.

I stand through a few of them, hearing different officials of the city. They try to be thoughtful, but they don't know nearly enough in order to. They aren't bounty hunters. They don't support them like Mayor Handler. They can only speak on behalf of the city and how they're grateful for the service of Samus, myself, and bounty hunters everywhere. They're all speaking directly to news cameras, not the audience.

I notice one that in the past has spoken vitriolically against bounty hunters. Now he seems to love them. I want to punch him because unless his viewpoint changed overnight, he's just playing it up for the cameras. It's not about Samus. None of these are truly about her.

Even as he leaves and I, the only person who truly cared about Samus, am called up, I'm still not sure what to say.

I'm quiet for a few seconds, and so is everyone else. The present hunters in particular are looking up at me expectantly. Somehow, I know what I'm going to speak about, but I don't know how.

So I just start, relying on my raging stream of thought.

"Hello, everyone… I'm Doug Falcon; you may know me from… places I've been." I nervously chuckle. "But yeah. I was… I was Samus' partner. We crossed paths about two years back…" I swallow. "Exactly two years and sixteen days ago. That day, we sort of interviewed each other and we began working together. We worked together up until… she…" I still can't say it.

I recover with "and there was something about Samus… well, many things about her that many people didn't know about. That was intentional. Many people with the level of notoriety that we had feel a need to show it off and jump into the public eye. Like me," I laugh, and a few laugh with me knowingly. "Samus was different. She didn't want to be tabloid fodder. She wasn't fond of the news network at all, honestly. She didn't want to be known for who she was. She wanted to be known for what she did.

"And that sounds backwards, but for her it made sense. She didn't want all of the messy details of her life clogging up her public image. She wanted the two to be completely divided. She never saw herself as a celebrity. Her life was no one's business except hers... and, well, eventually mine.

"She just wanted to hunt. She had an innate, unshakable sense of justice instilled in her so deep that sometimes it hindered her. That's how she was. She loved Junction City, a city that wasn't even her hometown… and you could tell. But what she worked for was peace of mind… and she could only get that by helping others get theirs... I'm not even sure she knew that."

I clear my throat again.

"I'm not going to get into the details of who Samus was. But I'll tell you what she was to me. She was the strongest person I've ever met. I mean she could take a punch and get back up, but she pressed on for three decades and longer with scars on her heart that never healed. That _never_ stopped her. And she was so wise, too. I loved talking to her…" I swallow. "I always thought she spoke as if she had been holding it up for most of her life. And I loved hearing it. I really did. If she could say one thing to me from the grave… it'd either be something meaningful, or she'd tell me 'at least it wasn't death by rabid tiger.'" I laugh at that, even though no one else gets it.

"But no, I mean… she was a very meaningful person. She had severity yet weightlessness. I always found it so unique. She taught me just how complex a person could be, and I was able to piece together everything she was…" my voice cracks and goes up a pitch, "…and she never allowed that view to anyone else. She told me the hardest thing she could do was trust… and yet she trusted me."

I look down at my podium, visibly cracking. "And goddamn, I just, I miss her so much," I say breathlessly, helplessly. "Only sixteen days in and I already miss her..." I choke on my words and stop for moment. I take a couple of breaths and then mumble an apology. I can see, however, that some of the hunters are affected. They can't take their eyes off of me.

I continue with renewed energy. "She was… for every reason you knew she was incredible, I knew ten more. That's what happens when you spend nearly every day with someone for two years. You can't go that long that close to someone without caring about them. And… I don't know where I'm going with this, I'm sorry. I just… I hear all this talk about how good Samus was and, I'm sorry, but you didn't know her!" A few suited heads turn sharply. "I didn't expect you to. But someone did know her, and that someone was me."

I'm on fire now, and I'm glancing at the news cameras. "Samus was more than just a symbol. She was a human being. A very beautiful human being. And sometimes, I think people forget that. About her, about us hunters. You see these macho celebrities..." I chuckle self-deprecatingly, "...and these bold personalities, these controversial figures, and you see a million and one reasons why these people are a threat to the city. Just open your minds. I'm not trying to make a statement. I just want people to know- we give a shit. We care. She cared. It's a job like yours is, and we're dedicated to it.

"Samus and I have been on that job for eighteen years. She was thirty-three, and was bounty hunting since her teens. During the years most people are feeling their wings grow in, she was flying. That's the kind of courage she had. You think that a fifteen-year-old girl taking down criminals that the police can't get is someone who is just looking for lunch money? She should have been going to prom. Instead, she took down three of the hardest targets in the system. She deserved a better dance than she got...

"Samus gave everything she had for the city, despite knowing the dangers firsthand. For whatever reason, she did it. And it was brilliant. She was brilliant!" There's evident enthusiasm and wonder to my tone as I continue. "I mean, not just through my eyes. She did amazing work in her time, and all of us know it. It's just remarkable. Not many people can say they've ever made as big a difference as Samus has in her thirty-three years."

I quiet down and conclude with "I know this much. Samus didn't say much of anything about it."

Then I walk off.

**~Disclaimer~**

**As usual, I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing. The Super Smash Bros version is essentially a melting pot of Nintendo characters from every major universe and several smaller ones. It's become the template for many works Nintendo Crossover without relegating it to that section, as it is here. Unlike many Nintendo games, canon here is very thin and often negligible, as the SSB games don't have any story save for the Subspace Emissary game-within-a-game from Brawl. There is very little canon to follow so most of it is by my own construction.**

**Furthermore, this is an Alternate Universe story, which either re-formats the Universe the source is set in or creates a whole new one. I've done the latter here; the idea of Super Smash Bros doesn't exist, but the roster has been used in reference many times as a society of bounty hunters, to keep with the general theme of this story. Samus from Metroid, Captain Falcon from F-Zero and Wolf from Star Fox are actually bounty hunters in their respective games' canon, which is what inspired the story.**

**Mel Yoshita is somewhat of an original character, but she is largely a recurring character that is a reinterpretation of our lovable Yoshi. Mayor Handler is also a reinterpretation of an SSB original character, Master Hand, the in game creator of the universe that is essentially a giant hand. Here, they're both human.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it thus far and continue to do so. **


	4. Today

**Chapter 4  
****Today**

_"How close am I to losing you?__"  
**~About Today by The National**_

When I'm off the podium and back in the crowd, the applause starts.

While not universal, it's powerful. All of the hunters are applauding, some beaming in pride, others teary-eyed (like Mario as he holds Peach close to him) and some stand still, lost in thought. Some city officials are applauding too, Mayor Handler the loudest of them all. I notice that the speaker from earlier, the one I wanted to assault, is staring into space, lost in thought.

I prepare myself for the wave of commendations and congratulations. Luckily, most are from the hunters, who are more authentic and less formal. I get claps on the back, handshakes, a few thank-yous and only a couple of condolences. Mario tells me, "I don't know if you could tell, but you've just changed things, for all of us."

"Thank you," I reply distantly. This may as well be a dream. The setting is bitter, but the moment is sweet.

A green-haired woman approaches me and introduces herself as Mel Yoshita. She's incredibly spirited, like a shaken soda bottle finally opened. She's tall and well-built, almost heavyset but stands strong. When she grins it covers half of her face.

"That was kind of incredible," she blurts out before I can return her hello. "I really hope you know just how articulate you are, because you are!" She shakes my hand and says, "If you need me, I'll be with the rest of my miniature society." She walks away, leaving me as a non-contribution to the conversation as she disappears into the crowd of my colleagues. I laugh, bewildered.

I like the idea of the _miniature society _she refers to the other hunters as. I really do.

Wolf is last in line. He shakes my hand vigorously. "Well!" he declares. "A man as sharp as you, you'll be alright. Trust me."

I nod, smiling.

He returns it, that same pain-laced smile so reminiscent of Samus. "I mean that, too. You're a survivor. In fact I even wager you'll avoid the three-month-binge-drinking stage."

I laugh, and it's a real laugh. "Thank you for that vote of confidence."

He laughs too. "You're an eloquent man. Keep it up."

I nod. "Thanks for your… motivational speech."

He just laughs, and he's gone. I'm left alone again. Suddenly, that's the last thing I want. I wander into the company of the miniature society, savoring the unity. They're welcoming, and they let me rest. We're not paying much attention to the speakers anymore- a still-invigorated Mel tells me I practically ended the show. I take the comment with some embarrassment and a ton of gratitude.

_"The show goes on," Samus tells me matter-of-factly, as if she didn't just get shot in the arm, as if she didn't kick him, take his gun, empty it and knock him out with it. She falls against me and groans, saying, "Okay, that's enough. Christ, this hurts." I carry her out like we're crossing the threshold. Three months and eleven days ago. _

We stay around together, united, watching as the camera turns towards us. We don't look that much different than the crowd but there's beauty in that. We smile for them.

After a couple of underwhelming speeches, the doors open, so we head outside for whatever ceremony Mayor Handler has arranged. A few of us make halfhearted cracks about the paparazzi. It pleases me, even if it still aches, to hear them chattering nonchalantly about Samus, especially when Mel dramatically declares, "Well, I propose we take one for the team, and for Samus. Who's with me?"

We all agree on the way out, preparing ourselves. I have to prepare myself for whatever ceremony is ahead. It's another step towards farewell. I have so many words left, and most won't be heard. I just compose myself, look up toward the skies and hope I can get through this. It's been sixteen days of hell. At least that'll break, then I can go on with my battle scars.

They never stopped Samus, after all.

_"I don't know how I keep going," she mumbles nonchalantly._

_"I do," I reassure her. "It's because you're brilliant."_

_Eighteen days ago._

We walk down away from the gala hall and across the street into Crossroads Park, the epicenter of the city. It's huge, stretching a mile wide each way unbroken. It can hold thousands of people comfortably, and it's open for everyone to come into and associate with each other. I can already feel the memories returning. Even if we haven't been here hundreds of times before, everything reminds me of her. That's never been a new sensation.

_"Doug." When she says my name, I turn to her. She looks at me, her eyes glimmering, a sincere, pure smile, one without any pain on her lips. She's beautiful. She keeps a gaze, then says, "never mind." A month and eight days ago._

The cameras continue to snap but the reporters, thankfully, are waiting until after the ceremony to bug us all (mostly me). Handler leads the way, standing in between two giant, draped objects. When the crowd has situated itself, hunters mingling with other guests, Handler begins to speak loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I… Falcon actually hit it right on the head. I didn't know what I was doing, honestly," he admits. "I wasn't exactly informed of what Samus would like to remember her by."

_"If I were to die," she contemplates "I'd like to be remembered by the people I know, some respect, and happy memories." She sighs and then admits, "meaning you, a glass of wine and a toast to my ashes." Four months and nineteen days ago._

I just reply, "I hope you didn't involve tigers."

The mayor smiles knowingly. "Nope, don't worry. It's rather cliché, though, and… well, take a look." He pulls the drapes off, revealing a small flock of doves in one cage, and a flock of ravens in another.

"I didn't know which to choose," Mayor Handler explained.

I immediately begin to break down and cry.

It's bittersweet, but it's starting to make me a mess. It's triggered my favorite memory of all, my favorite words of hers, the ones I try and save until it becomes less painful. It hurts and heals all at once, but I'm not sure where it leaves me, other than on bent knee, weeping in front of the cameras. My fellow hunters surround me, lifting me up and supporting me. I thought I'd dread that pity. Instead, I find their support helpful and fulfilling. I'm not alone after all.

Eventually, I pull myself together, and with a few pats on the back from my supportive colleagues, I stand tall and clear my throat. "That's actually kind of… I like that. I do. You have my approval… and you'd have hers."

"Thank you," Mayor Handler responds with a nod. "Anyway, political arguments aside, the story Miss Aran created for herself really is something spectacular. I can't put it better than you, Mr. Falcon, so I'll just explain my vision.

"What Samus and her fellows have done has protected us, done by putting themselves in the line of fire by their own free will. They protect the city, and they protect the police forces as well. Despite making a career out of locking up criminals, they've given us a little more freedom. Freedom from fear, from crime, from danger. So, what I planned, and really the only thing I could return, is a little freedom myself.

"And don't worry," he insisted. "No birds were harmed in the making of this stunt. In fact, these were kept within a nearby atrium. They, among others, were raised there for scientific purposes, and eventually would be released. I was lucky enough to snag these. Not the most creative idea, but-"

"It works," I finish.

He smiles and motions me up. We take our positions by separate cages. Despite my anxiety, a wave of anticipation gears up inside of me as the photographers prepare themselves and the crowd focuses their attention on us. On Handler's cue, we open the cages in unison.

All of the birds swarm out, shaking off a daze before flying away from the park, ravens and doves united and divided as they spill into the sky by the hundreds. The photographers are snapping as many shots as they can get. They're loving it, and honestly so am I. This is truly beautiful. Whether I'm grieving or not, I believe this is genuinely, authentically beautiful.

Despite the pain, I smile, and I don't stop gazing at the birds until none remain. Even then, I hesitate to bring my focus back to reality. I'm not entirely sure I want to be there, but I may as well start now.

I notice that the miniature society of bounty hunters are still looking up as well.

**~Disclaimer~**

**As usual, I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing. The Super Smash Bros version is essentially a melting pot of Nintendo characters from every major universe and several smaller ones. It's become the template for many works Nintendo Crossover without relegating it to that section, as it is here. Unlike many Nintendo games, canon here is very thin and often negligible, as the SSB games don't have any story save for the Subspace Emissary game-within-a-game from Brawl. There is very little canon to follow so most of it is by my own construction.**

**Furthermore, this is an Alternate Universe story, which either re-formats the Universe the source is set in or creates a whole new one. I've done the latter here; the idea of Super Smash Bros doesn't exist, but the roster has been used in reference many times as a society of bounty hunters, to keep with the general theme of this story. Samus from Metroid, Captain Falcon from F-Zero and Wolf from Star Fox are actually bounty hunters in their respective games' canon, which is what inspired the story.**

**Mel Yoshita is somewhat of an original character, but she is largely a recurring character that is a reinterpretation of our lovable Yoshi. Mayor Handler is also a reinterpretation of an SSB original character, Master Hand, the in game creator of the universe that is essentially a giant hand. Here, they're both human.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it thus far and continue to do so.**


	5. Ten Days Before

**Chapter 5  
****Ten Days Before**

_"At every occasion I'll be ready for the funeral."_  
**~Band of Horses, The Funeral**

The next week is rather busy. I did my share of interviews without trouble and saw myself on the news with tidbits of my speech. I even found a nice editorial online about my speech and the impact it, along with Samus' memorial overall, could have on the miniature society (I can't think of it any other way). It's just a bit of hope, but I could use it.

I stay connected to the bounty hunter network, mainly Wolf as could be expected. We hold our own sort of wake in place of the draconian funeral from before. I tell them, and them alone, stories of our time together, and I still don't give everything away. They understand. They laugh with me, let me cry, and don't say much about it, just listening. Either way, it comforts me and it's a good way to speed up another slow, lonely day as I figure out what to do with myself.

Mel catches me on her way out. "Just thought I'd mention, with all the hoopla about her legacy… she was lucky to have a partner like you, y'know that?"

That makes me immeasurably satisfied.

Things seem possible, and that helps me move through. It's nowhere near easy. Sometimes, I feel like I'm falling again but I manage to stabilize. I have the contact info of many of the hunters. Mel promises to sit through any messy phone calls I had to give and no one would be the wiser. Wolf and I promised to meet every now and again. Oddly enough, he's really dedicated to making sure I don't fall into deep depression, or at least unhealthy drinking habits.

_"Sometimes, help comes from the most surprising places," she tells me, drinking from a wine glass. "After all, I renewed my purpose by joining forces with a flamboyant race-car driver." It's like she wants to leave nothing unsaid, and I enjoy that. Four weeks and a day ago. _

After that week, I come back to a very empty Crossroads Park at midnight. I have a small urn with me, and I still don't know what to do with her ashes. All I know is, if I have to be here at midnight with a depleted bottle of wine talking to a jar to be with Samus for a little longer, I'll do it.

I don't have a glass, but there's hardly any wine left. Some of this should have been hers. It's such a bothersome thing, drinking for two. I look at the urn, and I smile, taking a sip.

"I think I owe you this," I speak to the night air with confidence.

I begin to reminisce.

_By now, it's a month and three days ago. In ten days, Samus will be dead. For now, she sits with me in the flesh on a bench in Crossroads Park, closer to me than ever before. She looks up at the sky and admits "I love birds."_

_"You do?" I'm curious. From her, love is a new conversation._

_"Love birds. Love flying, honestly. Even in a plane I feel adventurous. Commercial Class Conqueror, I suppose."_

_I smile. "That's a pretty logical thing to love."_

_"Has love ever been logical?" she asks me, eyebrow raised._

_"Well…" I divert the subject. "Honestly, I hate heights."_

_She punches me in the shoulder, sighing, "For shame." She starts laughing. It's perfectly real; she's laughing with giddiness, happiness long unrecognized. She can't even tell why and I know she doesn't care. She sighs and relaxes._

_"Everyone should get the chance to fly," she tells me. "I honestly believe that. Everyone should have their day, the day when everything seems perfect. When all of the pieces just connect and they're without troubles." She looks up at the sky, then curls into me. "Everyone should have the chance to truly be alive."_

_I've always wondered, and finally I ask. "Have you ever had that moment?"_

_She smiles. "I am now."_

_I don't know what to say. We kissed eleven days ago. It left us feeling distant, yet closer; nervous, yet bold. We broke a wall, but we're not sure what happens next. _

_I let her go and stand up. She seems disappointed, concerned even, until I pull her up with me._

_I promise her, "it's about to get a lot better."_

_She stops me, then pulls me to her to kiss me for the second time. It's short and shaky, but we both enjoy it. _

_Afterward, I remember my intent. "Do you dance?"_

_"About as well as I kiss," she admits. In her last ten days, we go on to talk about the second time we kissed, and the scant few afterward._

_"No harm in trying, right?"_

_"I've always wanted to."_

_So we do, in the middle of Crossroads Park at eight in the evening. We stumble, but hold each other tightly enough to stabilize. We're not the most graceful, but it's still so euphoric. I've had a few girlfriends in my life, so I know this euphoria. Now, though, it's the strongest it's ever been._

It was a euphoria well earned. It was two years of earning each other's trust and then our own, of standing tall together even after falling apart. Every day of those two years, we built our relationship, and this was the moment it became real. Losing that barely afterward hurts the most.

All I have is the past, but all things considered, it's an incredible one.

I look to the urn next to me and hold the bottle tightly in my grip. At the same time my memory reaches those words, I say it aloud.

_"I love you."_

I love you, too.

_We stop dancing and just look at each other, feeling the weight of our words. She grips my arm. Suddenly she's a shaking bundle of nerves. "So… yeah…" she mumbles. "I guess it's not a surprise and… it's sort of cliché, but… yeah, I guess. I love you, and I mean that… and…" she laughs, wiping her brow as if she's just realizing how exhausted she's been for the past two years. She holds my gaze with all of her might._

_"It's okay," I try to assure her. "I'm glad. I love you too."_

_She smiles, but she's still shaking. "Neato," she responds clumsily._

_"And, it's not cliche," I add. "In fact, I think the last two years have built up to this."_

_She doesn't look up. "Two years?" she asks nonchalantly._

_"In a week or so," I remind her._

_"Damn," she replies breathlessly._

_We take a seat back on the bench. She's still shaking._

On that same bench, a month and three days later, so am I.

_She falls into quiet, fully confident that I'll understand. I do, and I let her rest. She reclines against me and quickly falls asleep. I've always noticed that in the realm of her dreams, she's at peace more than she is awake. Despite her scars, she hasn't had a single nightmare. _

They'll never find her now. She'll sleep peacefully.

I take another drink of wine and then I'm quiet. I've ran through everything I could say, but the words never leave my head. I feel cold, anxious, fearful, because I feel the end.

I feel a strong wind cross the park, upturning leaves and remaining feathers from the ceremony. It's powerful, pulling everything up with it. I decide to act, or at least get the inevitable over with.

It's time.

"You deserve this."

I open the urn and throw her ashes into the sky.

Thankfully, the wind pulls her up to the stars, and the ashes fall apart into nothingness as she rides the wind into the stars. That's it. She's gone.

She's free. She's flying. She's gone.

I stare up at the sky, waiting for something. I don't know what. All of the ashes are gone, and so is she. I thought I realized that before, but now it's certain. Like her urn, I am also empty.

I pick it up and look around the park, not expecting anyone to be around. I realize that I'm going to have to head home now and start living without her. Not knowing what else to do, I swallow, blink back tears and begin to walk.

I hear a soft shaking inside the urn, but all the ashes are gone. Curious and hopeful, I look inside for something. There's a piece of paper in there, to my surprise. I've never noticed this, because I never saw this urn until Samus' ashes were in it.

_"I gave it to a funeral home. I don't want you to ever see it until my ashes are in it," are her words on the subject. "But I do hope you see it someday." My heart breaks a little. Five months and twelve days ago._

I pick it out of the urn, uncomfortably remove the small remnants of Samus' ashes from the top, and read the words from her familiar handwriting, both shaky yet strong.

"There is a natural, unavoidable fear of death that everyone has. We're no exception. For some, though, the fear is not of their own demise, but someone else's. I can tell we're both that way, and eventually it will be a race to see who takes the bullet for the other.

All I can promise you is that your ashes will never fill this urn.

I've crossed the line to the point that I've become so selfless it's made me selfish. I just hope you can understand it better than I do."

I fall to my knees again in shock. These are new words to me. They will be the last ones she will ever say to me. I savor them, let them race through my mind. I hold the paper against my chest, swallow hard and run it through my fingers.

I realize that I owe her a lot more than I thought I did.

I look at the paper one more time, and turn it around. There are six more words on the back.

"I wouldn't do it any differently."

I find myself tearing up again, before placing the paper back in my pocket, breathing heavily, trying to stand tall. I realize just how far away I am from being okay, but I know it's possible.

I realize that I wouldn't lose a moment of the past to protect myself from the future.

This is how she meant for things to be, after all.

**~Disclaimer~**

**As usual, I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing. The Super Smash Bros version is essentially a melting pot of Nintendo characters from every major universe and several smaller ones. It's become the template for many works Nintendo Crossover without relegating it to that section, as it is here. Unlike many Nintendo games, canon here is very thin and often negligible, as the SSB games don't have any story save for the Subspace Emissary game-within-a-game from Brawl. There is very little canon to follow so most of it is by my own construction.**

**Furthermore, this is an Alternate Universe story, which either re-formats the Universe the source is set in or creates a whole new one. I've done the latter here; the idea of Super Smash Bros doesn't exist, but the roster has been used in reference many times as a society of bounty hunters, to keep with the general theme of this story. Samus from Metroid, Captain Falcon from F-Zero and Wolf from Star Fox are actually bounty hunters in their respective games' canon, which is what inspired the story.**

**Mel Yoshita is somewhat of an original character, but she is largely a recurring character that is a reinterpretation of our lovable Yoshi. Mayor Handler is also a reinterpretation of an SSB original character, Master Hand, the in game creator of the universe that is essentially a giant hand. Here, they're both human.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it thus far and continue to do so**


	6. Afterward

**Epilogue**  
**Afterward**

_"Your love is my turning page. Only the sweetest words remain."  
_**~Sleeping at Last, Turning Page**

_After two months and thirteen days, I can breathe again without feeling the crushing pain of loss. It's a cascading relief to feel normal again. I'm thankful and inspired for the help my comrades gave me. A concept comes to me for our miniature society. I spend awhile obsessively creating a plan from it._

_After three months and five days, I decide to gather the hunters for a meeting, with an important subject in mind. I involve Mayor Handler, who invites us to the gala hall. I feel uncomfortable there, but the lights are bright and the spirit is one of warmth and unity, so I'm okay. Apparently an aspiring chef, Peach leads a handful of cooks to create a nice dinner for us. The chicken and mashed potatoes taste like perfection. I send my compliments._

_It's there that I bring forth my plan, as large as anything I've ever done. I want to unite the freelance hunters together as one orchestrated group, with a new structure, a unified group, rules to operate by and the opportunity to work together. I clarify that I know how drastic of a change this is, so I gathered everyone, including the mayor, for an open forum. _

_It's a mixed reaction at first, with some supporting it, some against it and others indecisive. Handler pledges his support just so long as his authority is recognized. Mel is eagerly for it, full of ideas. Wolf is against it, and despite my respect for him, I know it's because it requires him to let go of his double-agency. Nevertheless, the spark is there, and it carries._

_It's seven months and twenty-eight days until plans are finalized and we execute them. The Hunter's Society of Junction City, currently at thirty-two members, will work as an independent jurisdiction with Handler as a chair. I lead the board of directors, with Mario as a third chair. We begin to craft a code of conduct for the hunters within it. Handler insists on keeping the moratorium on killing without absolute necessity. I insist that all requested targets run through myself or Mario before being pursued. Otherwise, hunters are given freedom and combined resources from our community. Handler gives us a large building to operate from, making us an official part of the city, and opposition is less pronounced with the structure we have created. We all meet on a regular basis and learn from each other. Finally, we open registration for future hunters, increasing the force. _

_Our official badges are blue and orange. Samus' favorite colors._

_Nine months and twenty-two days in, I realize that I have to talk to Wolf. I bring him in to meet with me, expecting the worst. I try to remain calm as I accuse him, the man who helped me through my grief, of continuing unauthorized work from crime bosses. He's been drinking heavily again, and it makes him livid. He accuses me of destroying the honor of our society, turning us into a bureaucracy, working for my own gain, none of which he truly means. What he does mean is when, to gain leverage, he asks me if I know how much I owe him._

_Immediately, I know my reply. "Yes... and this is me repaying that debt."_

_He stops, and is quiet for a full minute before saying "Understood, Captain," without sarcasm. I dismiss him on leave for a month. He doesn't come back, checking himself into rehab. He says he'll be back on the job someday, but I wonder if he'd be better off retiring. I think he's had enough and won't admit it. Nevertheless, I visit him regularly as he did for me. _

_Eleven months and two days afterward, in the holiday season, Mel asks if I can meet up with her in Crossroads Park. To me, that place still belongs to Samus, so I recommend a nice nature park on the outskirts. I can tell things are different and already have a sneaking suspicion of what she wants, but I don't press on as we explore some of the trails within the park. _

_She's settled down lately, but her spirit is still loud enough to fill the snowy forests. She talks a lot about everything and I'm happy to make conversation with her. __It's different than it was with Samus, who said little but meant a lot. Mel can talk for hours and interest me with everything she says, whether it bears any weight or not. _

_It's a couple of hours until we leave the park and she finally takes a deep breath and asks me if she could treat me to a nice meal at her favorite diner. I know the implications this has and the way this will likely change our relationship. It's a big request, and I tell her that I'm honestly uncertain. When she responds almost apologetically, explaining that she wanted to wait a few months for me to be at peace with Samus' death, I realize how much she means this, and it means a lot to me. I take the risk and accept. She beams, grinning wider than I've ever seen her before. _

_Eleven months and eight days afterward, we meet. There's no awkwardness on our first date, because I know Mel and we already have established a dynamic. It'll be different than it was with Samus, but I'm at peace with that. I enjoy Mel's company, her humor and her spirit. I enjoy her. When we leave (she insists on paying, saying she doesn't consider it just a gentlemen's duty) I realize I'm glad I made this decision. I feel a relief that I've moved on without any guilt. _

As of now, it's been a year, two months and fifteen days since Samus' death. It's a new normal now, because the tragedy started a domino effect that led me somewhere new. I still miss her, but it's too far underneath the surface to burn me any longer. I can appreciate her memory now. It was her life that inspired me to create the Society. As much as I derided it at the time, her memorial and the hunters' presence helped me to not only recover, but improve life, for all of us.

Samus taught me how to be strong, and she gave her life for Junction City, for the hunters, for myself. She was wrong about this; she truly was selfless. I've always felt a need to make sure it was worth it somehow. I'd like to think I have. I'd like to think that she's proud of me and that she's happy for me. Of course, all I can do is think.

With every day I go, her death ceases to haunt me, because her life has helped me recover.

It's the reminder that I'm alive, and I'm grateful for every moment.

**~Authors' Note Initial~**

**I promised a large ending author's note... but what can be said that hasn't already been said?**

**I wanted to write something that would challenge me, not only on an experience level but on an emotional level. That's really the key word, challenge. I challenged myself to face my fears head-on, those nagging doubts, those pipe nightmares, losing the train of thought as it derails into potential yet unlikely tragedy. I'm not sure if you've gathered this, because I've written so much about it, but I'm terrified of death. And as it's been said in the story, not so much of mine as of those I love and care about. And it's very, very complicated, and honestly I'm not sure why I decided to write something that was honestly sort of painful to write, but I felt an unshakable urge to, so I did. I've written stories that I haven't understood the weight of until time passed, and I think that will be the case here. **

**Either way, I don't think I've been quite as proud of my writing as I have before. Memento Vita is my masterpiece.**

**~Thanks~**

**I want to thank you all for your support through your reviews and critique. You've all been very helpful and encouraging, and it's made me feel more validated as an author than I've ever been before. My membership at the Reviews Lounge too saw me grow from a teenager to an adult, and you've helped me feel validated as both a young man and a mature author.**

** I want to reserve special thanks to those who have read all six chapters. Sort of a hall of fame, so to speak. **

**Tune4toons, who helped me understand her more just as much as she learned of herself from this gift.  
RedheadedMarina for your unceasingly kind words and how you made me feel excellent on a level even further than before.  
IrishPanther for swiftly and loyally reviewing all five chapters beforehand via Review Tag.  
Dominus Tenebrosus for your helpful advice, willingness to be honest and in general the help you've provided.  
ReadingBlueWolf for the lovely and impactful words of praise you've given, especially since I am a huge fan of your work. Sorry for the tears!  
MadameGiry for swiftly following the work after starting, catching things I didn't and being the sixth and latest person to finish all six chapters.**

**Thank you all for following this from start to finish. Should anyone else find their way here, rest assured I'm thankful for any and all reviews I receive. Memento Vita is my first work out of nearly sixty to reach RLt Graduation Standards, and that is perhaps the cherry on top of all that this work has given me.**

**~Trivia~**

**Formerly this had all gone into scattered authors' notes but I've cleaned those up and decided to place them all here.**

**1) Memento Vita is Latin for "Remember Life."**

**2) The inclusion of Wolf is inspired by how Tune is both a big fan of the character and her own use of him in her fan-fiction works.**

**3) The play in the third chapter actually happened for me in the second grade, and yes, I was Pedro. And a budding show-off. And the girl playing Martina really could not stand me. She actually shook her head in the wedding ceremony part whilst reluctantly saying "I do." I was not the popular kid in my class, haha. Of course, my details are about a decade fuzzy so the little details may be off but largely they are pretty clear, because that moment was nevertheless highly awesome.**

**4) I often have voices of actors in my head for the characters in my stories. Captain Falcon's often changes. In Samskeyti it was Patrick Warburton. Here, for some reason, he's Louis CK. Strange, yes, I know. ****Samus, however, is certainly Katey Sagal. Especially after Sons of Anarchy, which she does incredibly in. I highly recommend that show; not many shows can engage me from the pilot like that one did. So if you ever re-read it, here's a little bonus game of 'Good news, everyone! You have read this entire segment in Professor Farnsworth's voice!'**

**5) Two stories that inspired this, besides the general tone of Tune4Toons, are two of the most famous fanfics I've come across. The subject of death and the one closest to the deceased left behind is inspired to an extent by Alone On The Water by MadLori (Sherlock) and the subject of moving on after tragedy is inspired by hgfan11's Letters From The Sky in the Hunger Games' section.**

**6) Most of it, however, is inspired by my own fears, thoughts and beliefs, as are most of my stories. Most of everything I write is overwhelmingly personal but I often have inspiration from other places.**

**~And the Disclaimer, Once More~**

**As usual, I own nothing, regret nothing and let them forget nothing. The Super Smash Bros version is essentially a melting pot of Nintendo characters from every major universe and several smaller ones. It's become the template for many works Nintendo Crossover without relegating it to that section, as it is here. Unlike many Nintendo games, canon here is very thin and often negligible, as the SSB games don't have any story save for the Subspace Emissary game-within-a-game from Brawl. There is very little canon to follow so most of it is by my own construction.**

**Furthermore, this is an Alternate Universe story, which either re-formats the Universe the source is set in or creates a whole new one. I've done the latter here; the idea of Super Smash Bros doesn't exist, but the roster has been used in reference many times as a society of bounty hunters, to keep with the general theme of this story. Samus from Metroid, Captain Falcon from F-Zero and Wolf from Star Fox are actually bounty hunters in their respective games' canon, which is what inspired the story.**

**Mel Yoshita is somewhat of an original character, but she is largely a recurring character that is a reinterpretation of our lovable Yoshi. Mayor Handler is also a reinterpretation of an SSB original character, Master Hand, the in game creator of the universe that is essentially a giant hand. Here, they're both human.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it thus far and continue to do so.**

**~Again, thanks to everyone who has read and assisted in this work for their help, encouragement, praise and vindication.~**

**...guess I had a lot to say after all. **


End file.
